Uncle Richard laughed, like all he’d ever wanted in life was to be bossed around by Keoki’s grandmother. “You’re a veryvivacious woman. And such magnificent hair. Have I mentioned that?”
“It’s okay. You can say it again,” she replied graciously. “You got a helicopter at home?
“No, but I do own an impressive collection of model planes.”
“Huh.” That was the extent of Tutu’s commentary on a grown man playing with toys. “How about my story? You going to put it in your newspaper or what?”
He held his phone up to his mouth. “Set a reminder to remind Thelma to remind me to look into a story about Tutu.”
Hildy grabbed the phone out of his hand. “Cancel reminder,” she huffed. “Don’t poach my exclusive.” She circled a finger at Jefferson.
“The story has already been assigned,” he translated.
“To Lillibet,” Hildy added.
Uncle Richard frowned. “I thought her area was more place mats and things.”
“One, they’re called tablescapes.” To Jefferson’s relief, Hildy didn’t ask him to repeat that part. “And two,” she continued, “you can care about aesthetics and still be a skilled professional. It’s called multitasking.”
“Yes, but her poor husband,” Uncle Richard pointed out. “Where does he fall on the list of tasks? The demands of running a business empire are too heavy to shoulder alone.”
“He’s at a builders’ association meeting.” Hildy’s tone suggested this was on par with cleaning the bottom of a birdcage. “I’m pretty sure Mr. L can sell his own faucets.”
“You’ll understand when you settle down and start a family of your own.” Uncle Richard reached across the table to pat Hildy’s hand. Luckily for him, they were using plastic silverware, or he might have pulled back a bleeding stump.
“It’s never enough. We make everything beautiful and stroke your egos and bear your children and then you try and nickel-and-dime us when it comes to pursuing our own ambitions.” Hildy shook her head. “Where’s the justice? Is it any wonder we need a Me-mas?”
“You need a what?” It sounded like Uncle Richard was ready to pull out his credit card.
“Are you seriously telling me you don’t know about Me-mas?” Hildy huffed. “That is so culturally insensitive.”
Uncle Richard caught Jefferson’s eye, raising his brows in a clear bid for man-to-man sympathy. “She’s always been dramatic. I hope you don’t mind her little outbursts. I’m used to it, of course. Like water off a duck.”
Keep telling yourself that,Jefferson thought. Hildy’s uncle might be in charge on paper, but there was no question who was driving the emotional bus.
“I can’t believe you would show up here without at least taking the time to educate yourself about something so important to me.” Hildy added a hitch in her voice that made Jefferson wonder if acting classes had been part of her business school curriculum.
“But Hildy! Sweetheart. That’s why I’m here. Flying all this way to check on you should count forsomething.I’m a very busy man.”
“Uh-huh. All that golf isn’t going to play itself.”
Libby, who had walked outside in time to hear Hildy’s muttered retort, froze. Her gaze found Jefferson’s, and he suspected they were wondering the same thing:Is this what she meant by keeping her uncle happy?Then again, their argument had the familiar rhythm of an established routine. Maybe this was the Johnson family’s love language.
“How about some music?” Keoki held up a ukulele. It looked like a child’s toy in his hands.
“Wonderful,” said Uncle Richard, already applauding. Either he really loved live music, or he was grateful for the interruption.
As Keoki’s smooth baritone served up a medley of pop hits from the 1980s, Hildy left her place at the table to join Jefferson.
“They’re playing your song,” she said, plopping down beside him with a plate balanced on one hand.
“Yes. Phil Collins was huge in my day. Pretty sure I danced to this at prom.”
“No way! You went to prom?” She laughed at her deliberate misunderstanding of his joke, forking up another mouthful of pie. “I don’t know what this haupia stuff is, but I could eat a truckload.”
“Coconut pudding,” one of Keoki’s hulking brothers said in passing. He tried to ruffle Hildy’s hair, but she ducked out of the way.
“Respect the curls.”
